


cherry

by allstars



Series: double f for fluff and fruits [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bucky Barnes Recovering, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Hurt Bucky Barnes, M/M, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Steve Rogers, Recovery, Touch-Starved, Touchy-Feely
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-21
Updated: 2019-11-21
Packaged: 2021-02-26 20:41:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21514996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allstars/pseuds/allstars
Summary: Steve sits next to Bucky on the bed, biting his lip, his hands nervously playing with the mattress. Bucky tilts his head, a watchful gaze on Steve's hand. Then he gently places his own over Steve's."This good?" Bucky asks."It is, Buck. Feels good," he smiles.Bucky plays with Steve's fingers, softly. "You're so warm, Steve.""You smell really good," Steve smiles at him. Bucky blushes."You too, Steve."
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Series: double f for fluff and fruits [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1550773
Comments: 16
Kudos: 116





	cherry

**Author's Note:**

  * For [steverrogers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/steverrogers/gifts).



> becky requested me to write another fluffy, touch starved and recovering fic like tangerine, so here it is. i regret nothing.

There were good days and bad days.

In the good days, Bucky would wake up, eat properly, exchange a few words with Steve along the day, read a book or see a movie. Sometimes — always — he shyly asked Steve to wait in his bed while he was taking a shower on his bathroom, the door always open — he never admitted, but showers were a little terrifying to him; the very sense of vulnerability was a monster on the closet to him. Steve understood that and smiled at him everytime he asked, never judging his friend. And when he finished cleaning himself, he always whispered a shy thank you to Steve from the door, Steve said it was no problem at and left the room so Bucky could change.

In the bad days, Bucky didn't take a shower. He usually didn't leave his bed either, and as soon as Steve woke up and didn't saw him on the living room or the kitchen, he went to his friends' bedroom to check on him. It was always the same sight: baggy eyes, dark circles around it indicating a restless night. Bucky's eyes never met his gaze in this days either. Steve used to ask if he needed anything, if he was hungry, if he wanted help, and Bucky always whispered "Sorry, no. I can't… I don't. Don't want." Steve said he didn't needed to be sorry and if he needed anything, just call for him. Bucky nodded and pushed his blankets to his neck more urgently, looking anywhere but Steve's eyes.

Steve understands Bucky, he really does. He lets him have his space on these days, even with the urge of taking care of him driving himself mad, even with the will to just lay down with him and say it's gonna be fine. That he's there for him. But Steve didn't do any of it.

First — and last — time he tried to pull Bucky out of bed, Bucky started crying violently. His sobs were uncontrollable, loud, and he curled up on himself, shaking from head to toe, asking, _begging_ Steve to please, _please let me here. Please…. P—Please leave me alone…._

That made Steve fear on his bones that Bucky wouldn't ever be better again and while he listened to the loud cry of his friend on his bedroom, the screams and the sobs, he cried too, but his was a silent one. He called Sam and Nat and asked them to come to the apartment. They did, and all the duo did in that afternoon was confort Steve. 

From this day on, after some advices from his friends, Steve decided that he would give Bucky the space he needed, no matter how hard it was to watch him so miserable. He needed his own time and space, God knows Hydra took it all away from him for too long. Steve would wait for him, and hope he would get better. And when he felt the time was right, he would ask Bucky if he wanted to see a therapist.

Bucky needed to make that choice, not Steve.

And just like this, weeks passed by. It took a little while to convince Bucky to live with Steve, but he was patient, and again he was being patient with Bucky. 

So, in the bad days, Steve immediately notices Bucky isn't okay, and he don't push. What he always does is leave two bottles of water to Bucky and some fruits he likes on his nightstand. Before he leaves the bedroom, Steve always says he's here for anything Bucky needs, asks him to please just try to eat and drink water.

Bucky always nods with a puffy face and closes his teary eyes.

One day, Steve asked if he could kiss his forehead. Bucky looked at him, panic all over his face. Steve never asked again.

Of course he knew touching, hugging and kisses here still a delicate subject for Bucky, after all he was used to being beaten up, used as a weapon and probably didn't remember much of what a gentle touch felt like. It took Bucky weeks to allow Steve to even touch him. In the good days, _he_ touched Steve, placing his hand on Steve's shoulder and looking proud of himself for doing it.

That was pretty much it. No hugs, not much touch and never, ever forehead kisses. Steve missed those, from the old times, but he never told Bucky this.

* * *

Steve comes back from the Central Park one day, with a tiny bag and a flower on his hand. He carefully opens the door, trying not to be loud — Bucky gets scared very easily — but as soon as he looks at the couch, he sees his friend curiously looking at the door, waiting. 

Oh. Super hearing. 

"Hey, Bucky, what are you watching?" The door closes with a soft click and Steve hears the initial notes from "Can't Stop the Feeling!" coming from the tv. 

He smiles at the same time Bucky replies "It's, uh… Trolls, I guess."

"I love that movie," Steve puts the bag on the coffee table and holds the flower in his hand. "D'you like Princess Poppy?"

"Yep. But sometimes Branch is more… relatable," he shrugs. Steve gives him a reassuring look, nodding, and then offers Bucky the flower he's holding.

"Figured you would like that one," he smiles.

"It's pretty," Bucky says, a small grin forming on his face. He takes the flower, looking at it, then smells it with closed eyes. "Smells good too."

"You're like this flower," Bucky says, looking at Steve.

"Am I?" Steve asks, not bothering to hold back his biggest smile.

"Yeah."

Bucky looks at the Daisy again, smiles. He leans on the couch with his metal arm, careful, and uses his flesh hand to place the flower behind Steve's ear. His hand just hangs there for a moment, but he decides with a sigh to slide his thumb over Steve's ear. Then, a movement so soft Steve wouldn't notice if he wasn't so aware of everything Bucky does: he caresses Steve's hair for a moment then lets his hand fall back on his lap.

Steve waits. Bucky shrugs, looking down.

"It looks prettier on you," he justifies. 

"Can I touch your fingers?" Steve asks.

Bucky thinks for a moment, tilts his head looking at the tv and the dancing trolls again. When he looks back at Steve, the blonde's eyes are so full of hope that he fights the urge of shaking his head, and says instead: "Okay."

Steve reaches for Bucky's hand, the brunette slowly turning his palm up and watching as his roommate carefully places his fingertips on his. Bucky closes his eyes as he feels a delicate touch on his fingers, slow circled movements coming after.

"This good?" Steve asks.

Bucky opens his eyes, proud of himself. "Yeah, Steve, is good."

* * *

"Steve," Bucky calls from his bedroom after putting some clothes on. He had just taken a shower, and Steve had just left this same room, after waiting for him to clean himself.

He comes back. "Hey, Bucky. Need anything?" Steve says as shows up by the door.

"Com'here." 

Steve sits next to Bucky on the bed, biting his lip, his hands nervously playing with the mattress. Bucky tilts his head, a watchful gaze on Steve's hand. Then he gently places his own over Steve's.

"This good?" Bucky asks.

"It is, Buck. Feels good," he smiles.

Bucky plays with Steve's fingers, softly. "You're so warm, Steve."

"You smell really good," Steve smiles at him. Bucky blushes.

"You too, Steve."

* * *

Today is going to be a really bad day — Steve knows that from the screams he's hearing from Bucky's bedroom.

Bucky sounds in so much pain.

With the very thought of it, Steve decides to go upstairs and check on him. It's not going to be easy. He usually wakes up and thinks he's still trapped on the dream, afraid and lost, and takes a few minutes to calm down. But he needs Steve. 

As soon as Steve opens the door, he sees Bucky crying, still dreaming, trying to push something away. He screams again.

"Please, let me go, please, I didn't do anything! I never wanted to kill them!" Bucky sobs.

Steve runs to his side, places a hand on his friends' shoulder and caresses him.

"Bucky. Bucky, hey. Buddy, it's just a bad dream. Wake up, Bucky."

Bucky hears his name being called, and he knows he's not being taken away. _They_ didn't called him Bucky.

"Steve?" He opens his eyes quickly, looking around, breathing fast. "Steve…." He breaths out, and it's dark, _maybe this is just another dream_ , he thinks, and his chest hurts even more.

He feels a hand on his right arm. "It was just a bad dream, Bucky. I'm here."

Bucky looks up, his eyes finally focusing on the man in front of him, _Steve,_ he remembers, it's Steve and he's here. He can't help but shrink to his touch, it was so nice and gentle it doesn't feel real, nothing good feels real to him. 

Steve moves his hand away, aware of Bucky's reaction. "Sorry."

"Sorry," Bucky says back. "Sorry."

"You were the one that was having a bad dream, honey," Steve says.

The sound of it, _honey,_ echoes in his head like a distant memory, like a music he learned years ago and it's slowly remembering the lyrics.

_Honey, can you buy me some cherries?_

A voice says in his head, and he shrinks again. Feels like a memory, a voice so familiar. Bucky suddenly comes to realization that it's his own voice.

Definitely a memory.

"Steve." He calls the man in front of him, suddenly feeling the urge to hear his voice.

"Yeah, Bucky?"

Bucky places his flesh hand, that's still shaking, on Steve's shoulder. He doesn't say another word.

Steve lifts his own hand up, reaching to touch Bucky's, but he stops. He looks at Bucky, who stares at him for a second, then closes his eyes. He nods, giving Steve silent permission to touch him back.

As soon as Steve's hand meets his, he doesn't shrink. It feels warm, so nice and gentle. Steve makes slow movements with his fingers, caressing Bucky in the most subtle way. 

_Take my hand, honey,_ another voice speaks to him this time.

Bucky opens his eyes meeting Steve's gaze and he holds on to it. "Steve." He says again.

Everything on the future feels so strange to him, but saying his name feels familiar. So he says it. Again and again, just because he can.

And Steve smiles at him. 

"Bucky," he says it back. That single word grounds him in the most amazing way.

* * *

"Can I rub your back?" Steve asks one day, after he wakes up and sees Bucky sitting on the floor, staring at the wall.

Bucky nods.

With that, Steve sits right next to him, careful enough to not sit too close, and started doing slow, delicate movements, rubbing Bucky's back.

His fingers trace all kinds of forms while he caresses Bucky's back, and Steve feels his friend slowly relaxing moments later.

"Feels good," Bucky whispers when he manages to calm down. "You… want it too?"

"Of course, baby. Only if you really want to do it."

Bucky hesitates, his hand halfway to Steve's back. Then he places it there. "Thank you, Steve," he says as he starts to make slow movements with his fingers.

* * *

One day, after hearing Steve laugh at something he said, Bucky stands up suddenly with his shoulders back and walks to Steve. He clears his throat.

"Your nose makes little wrinkles when you smile," he says.

Steve studies him for a moment, then laughs again. "I guess I just proved your point."

"Can I kiss your nose, Steve?"

Steve looks at him like Bucky just asked to marry him, and it makes Bucky want to laugh, but he waits.

_Want an Eskimo kiss, honey?_

"Will you let me kiss yours?"

Bucky shakes his head no. Steve shrugs, but smiles. "You can do it."

Bucky leans forward to where Steve is sitting, looks at him for a moment then gives a quick kiss on the tip of Steve's nose. Steve looks up at him, grinning.

"How does it feel?" Bucky asks.

"It's good. It kinda tickles. Sure you don't wanna try?"

"Sure." And he walks to his room again.

* * *

One hour later, he calls Steve and says he can kiss his nose.

Steve does.

"It tickles in a good way," Bucky concludes.

"Told you," Steve says, smiling.

* * *

In the next bad night, Bucky dreams about being taken away again. This time, he's in the future, eating the fruits Steve brought to him, when the faceless men came to take him away. He tried to scream but his mouth didn't make sound. In panic, he realized he had no mouth.

"Bucky. Bucky, hey. I'm here, wake up, honey."

Bucky opens his eyes and meet a concerned look from Steve.

"Another…. One?" Bucky whispered.

"Another bad one, Bucky. But it was just a dream, okay?" Bucky nods and offers his hand to Steve. He takes it in a millisecond. 

They stay like this for a while, Steve sitting on the floor next to Bucky's bed, never letting go of his hand, and Bucky looking at him, trying to control his breathing. 

"Steve," he says.

"I'm here."

Bucky closes his eyes and squeezes his hand, shaking his head. "Steve, can you…" he stops, shaking his head again.

"You can ask me anything, honey."

"Steve…" he starts again, opening his eyes this time. "Can you kiss my forehead?"

Steve opens a smile so beautiful and gorgeous that Bucky asks himself why he didn't asked this before, why he didn't touched Steve more, and let Steve touch him more. Steve gets on his knees, caresses Bucky's hair, so careful on every move that it makes Bucky want more, but he doesn't ask. He closes his eyes and just hopes he doesn't panic. Steve squeezes his hand, asking for permission again, and Bucky nods. He feels a slow, warm kiss on his forehead. 

He opens his eyes.

Steve smiles at him, whispers _"Bucky"_ , squeezes his hand and stands up.

Bucky sits down on his bed, making a gesture for Steve to sit by his side. When he does, Bucky takes his hand, hesitantly, then tangles their fingers, looking at it curiously.

_Honey, take my hand._

He shakes his head, trying to focus on Steve's hands on his and not the voices on his head.

_I'll never let go, baby._

The last voice makes him shrink, and he squeezes Steve's hand tight, placing it under his cheek and closing his eyes tightly. Steve studies him by his side, wondering what made Bucky take his hand, but the brunette opens his eyes again and looks at Steve.

"I'll never let go, baby," Bucky whispers, and places a sweet kiss on Steve's hand. Then, he places his head on Steve's shoulder and puts heir tangled hands on his lap.

They stay like this until the sunrise. He never asks Steve to stay, but he didn't needed to.

Steve cries silently, and never lets go of Bucky's hand either.

* * *

"There's these voices," Bucky says in one of his good days. "It's like… You, talking to me. Or me talking to you."

"Like memories?" Steve asks, looking at Bucky from the counter. 

Bucky shifts on the couch. "Maybe."

"What do they say?"

"The first one I remember asks you to bring me some cherries," Bucky shrugs. 

"Oh," Steve laughs. "You used to love cherries." 

"Did I?"

"Yeah. You want some? I'll go to the market today."

"Yes," Bucky says, and then he smiles, saying: _"Bring me cherries, honey."_

Steve tries to ignore the feeling of being called honey by Bucky. He fails miserably.

* * *

And then, because their happiness never settles, there's another bad day. It's a really horrible one, like the first ones when Bucky had just moved in, there's s screaming and crying, and loud sobs. He screams for Steve.

Steve runs upstairs and find Bucky wake this time, curled up like a ball, his arms embracing his knees like a scared child. Steve fought the urge to hug him right away — he never asked, and Steve has to wait for him to ask — and sits by his side.

"Bucky," Steve says, and a emotionless face looks at him, like he just got out of a trance. 

Bucky's blue eyes slowly focus on Steve, the sight of his friend making him feel safe and grounded like it always does. "Steve…" he whispers.

Suddenly, Bucky gets on his knees and hugs Steve. He hugs him tight, touching every inch of his back, to feel Steve is really here, to feel he's _real,_ to feel safe. Steve hugs him tight, his whole body shaking in reaction to the feeling of Bucky against him, needing him.

"Honey!" Bucky cries out, and doesn't say another word, like he didn't want to find out this was another tricky dream and Steve wasn't really there.

"I'm here, my love, I'm here, baby." Steve cries too, holding him tight, feeling Bucky's racing heart against his skin. Steve breaks the hug, and holds Bucky's face in his hands, looking at his eyes. 

Bucky sobs and closes his eyes, leaning against Steve's touch and placing his own hands against his. He's shaking, his whole body jumping with every sob, and Steve kisses his forehead once, twice, ten times. "Baby, I promise I'm here. Honey, look at me please," Steve asks.

Bucky opens his eyes, and they're so full of pain Steve feels his heart break.

"Honey… You're here." Bucky whispers.

"I'll never leave."

Bucky closes his eyes again, kisses both of Steve's hands, hugs him one more time.

"Can you stay tonight, honey?" Bucky asks.

Steve does. He spends all night awake, feeling Bucky's breathing against his chest. He kisses his forehead a couple more times, and Bucky doesn't wake up until next morning. 

* * *

_Steve sits by Bucky's side, carrying a bowl full of mixed fruits. He smiles at Bucky, taking his hand and placing the bowl on the floor next to him._

_Bucky remains silent, observing Steve, who's chewing something. "Want some?" He asks. Bucky nods._

_Steve takes a plum from the bowl and puts it next to Bucky's mouth, nodding for him as saying "go ahead". He bites it, obeying._

_They eat a little more. "Oh," Steve says, suddenly, "I brought some cake too."_

_He stands up and goes to the kitchen, coming back to their bedroom with two slices of cake, and one cherry on the top of each one. "Thought you would enjoy these," he says, sitting down. "It's your favorite flavor. And, of course, a cherry on top, how you like it."_

_Bucky takes his slice and bites it, making a satisfied nose with how good it tastes. He eats his cake quickly, leaving the cherry to eat last._

_"Come here, honey" Steve says. "You got something on your…" Steve leans to clean his chin, too close, and Bucky looks at his lips._

_He kisses Steve before he can even finish the sentence. He tastes like cherry and chocolate, and a little of something else. He tastes like Steve, mostly, sweet and delicate, making Bucky want more of him, taste more until he's out of breath._

_When they break the kiss, Steve smiles at Bucky. "You didn't ate yours," he says, biting his lip and pointing to Bucky's plate._

_Bucky takes the cherry on his plate, "Come and get it," he says, putting it on his mouth._

_They share another cherry kiss._

* * *

Bucky wakes up, looking around and not knowing where he is for a second. He sees he's in his bedroom, the same closet door in front of him, the bottles of water on his nightstand. He takes one and drinks its full content. 

_What was that?,_ he asks himself.

The fresh memory of his dream overpowers him. Bucky vividly remembers how Steve felt on his mouth, how _sweet_ he tasted, how pure was their kiss. It was so intimate, so…. Normal. It felt so right to do. Bucky sighs. 

His relationship with Steve was still recovering, he had rare moments of clarity where he remembered bits of his old life — Steve was in every single memory he had, a solid part of that life — but the blind sense of trust he had in Steve before is back now. It was a slow process, but Steve showed endless support for Bucky in every bad day he had in the last months (and Bucky couldn't help but notice how _happy_ Steve could get in every good day too), so now Bucky lets Steve touch him, because he doesn't feel uncomfortable, not anymore. 

Steve, of course, still asks for consent, and Bucky is grateful for that reassurance every single time, the feeling of having power over his choices making him feel safe again. 

In the bad days, Steve sleeps on Bucky's bed, only because Bucky always asks. Steve never says no to anything he asks.

In the good days, they watch a bunch of movies, and Steve never fails to make Bucky smile with his reactions. It was a good routine, and thanks to it, Bucky's slowly adapting to his new life.

There's one thing Bucky got to remember from the old days, and he doesn't like it: he weren't allowed to love Steve. He was afraid, and Steve was too, so they shut down their feeling in order to be alive. Better this way, at least that was their thought.

In the future, any kind of love was allowed, at least the last movie they saw the other day said so. That made Steve smile, and Bucky saw it from the corner of his eyes. 

It made Bucky think for days. But after this dream, he made a decision.

He stood up from his bed with a smile on his face and an idea in mind. Today, he was going out.

* * *

Bucky never leaves the house, at least not frequently. It was always with Steve, and it was Steve too who asked him too. 

Today, he's feeling like he can do it by himself, a strange good feeling taking his body as he eats breakfast and watches the sun rise from the window. When he finishes it, he takes a paper and a pen and starts writing a note.

_Steve,_

_Don't worry, I just went to the grocery store._

_I'm feeling well today and thought I could go by myself._

_I'll probably be back before you notice, but in any case…_

_Don't freak out._

_See you soon,_

_B._

He draws a clumsy heart by his initial, places the paper on the desk, and leaves the apartment humming a song he doesn't know the name.

* * *

"So you went out," Steve says with narrowed eyes as soon as Bucky opens the door. It wasn't meant to be said in an accusatory tone, but it did. He lifts one of his eyebrows at Bucky, waiting for an answer.

Bucky laughs, tilting his head back. "Yeah, dad, I did."

Steve giggles, wide-eyed. "Don't you _ever_ call me that!"

"Dad!" Bucky shouts as he walks to the kitchen counter and places the things he brought in it.

"You know what? You're annoying, Buck," Steve stands up. 

"Oh, am I now?"

"Yeah, jerk. What did you buy?" He asks, already sneaking on the bags.

"Hey!" Bucky slaps his hand. "It's a surprise!"

"Alright, alright, mister," Steve says, lifting his arms in surrender. "Go do your thing."

"Sure will," Bucky murmurs. "Wait in your bedroom."

"What's that now?" Steve places his hands on his lips.

Bucky walks to him, fighting the urge to just… hug him, right here and now, and says, confidently: "You. Bedroom. Now!" And points to Steve's door.

"Okay, _dad,"_ Steve says, and Bucky doesn't hold his laugh back. "You're very talkative today."

"It's a good day," he answers, going back to the counter. "So let's enjoy it."

"Sure will."

And just like that, Steve leaves Bucky alone. He doesn't ask to hug him, or if he can touch him, and Bucky feels stupid for wanting it. _Don't wait for him to ask, just do it,_ he says to himself.

He stops grabbing the things he need and goes to Steve's door, knocking it. Steve allows him to enter and he does. 

"Is it ready?" He asks.

"No, I just…" Bucky says, and sighs. " _Forget it, this is dumb…"_ he mumbles to himself.

"Buck, hey. What's up?" Steve says standing up.

Bucky sighs again, then walks to Steve and hugs him tight.

"This," he replies as he lets go of Steve. 

Steve smiles at Bucky and takes him in his arms again. "Feels good, don't it?" 

"It does, honey."

"Can I kiss your cheek?" Steve asks.

"Always," Bucky replies with a smile.

* * *

As soon as Bucky is done, Steve can already guess what he's doing because it smells, and it smells delicious. Bucky opens Steve's door and gestures for him to follow him.

"WE'RE HAVING CAAAKE!" Steve practically sings as they're heading to the kitchen.

"Umpf. Smart ass!" 

"You know damn well I am." Steve smiles.

"That's one of the reasons I love you," Bucky says, but he stops. It wasn't meant to be like this, no, _they would have cake first and Bucky would ask for a kiss and_ **_then_ ** _confess his feelings. This is wrong, this is the wrong order and—_

"Bucky." 

He looks up at Steve, who can see he's in panic. Bucky runs a hand through his hair and sighs. 'Fuck."

Steve gets closer, placing both hands on Bucky's arms. The metal one makes a _whirl,_ and they both notice it's because Bucky is making a fist.

"Hey. Can I hug you?" 

Bucky looks down, but nods. Steve gets closer and hugs him, placing a kiss on his cheek. 

" _I love you, honey,"_ he whispers in Bucky's ear. "But you already know that, right?" Bucky nods, holding him tighter. 

"So what bothers you, my dear?" 

"It was meant to be… special," Bucky replies, in lack of better words. He sighs, loudly. "It wasn't meant to be like this. I planned… everything, y'know."

"Bucky, darling… You could say you love me in the middle of a fight, and it would still be special to me," Steve says, now looking at Bucky's eyes again and holding his face next to his. "Hey, hey." The blonde places his forehead in Bucky's. "Did you listen? I love you."

Bucky smiles and crinkles form in his eyes. 

He places his hands on Steve's neck, then whispers. "I love you, Steve Rogers."

It was great, so great to just let it out. Bucky have been carrying this feeling for god knows how long, but his fear didn't let him see that, and the PTSD sure didn't helped as well, but here he is. Healing, feeling himself again — or at least, his new self — and confessing his love for Steve. 

And Steve didn't even hesitated in saying it back.

"Can I…" Bucky firms his grip. "Kiss you?"

"Always," Steve says, and it makes Bucky smile.

* * *

Steve tastes like heaven.

Cotton pink candy melting on his mouth, slow and divine. Sweet like cherry wine. 

Bucky feels drunk on his love, like an addict wanting for more, and God knows how much he wanted this, how much he wanted to really touch and _feel_ Steve without hesitation or fear.

He holds Steve tight, not wanting for this moment to end.

He feels infinite, right here on his lover's arms.

* * *

Bucky doesn't need to ask how's the cake, because as soon as Steve takes the first bite, he moans with his mouth full — no one needs to know what effects that caused on Bucky, no one at all — and lets out a sigh.

"Damn, Bucky, I didn't remember you were such a good baker," Steve says, still chewing. 

"Guess I didn't too," he smiles, placing his hand on Steve's arm and caressing it. "Glad you liked it."

He says that in such a shy and cute tone, _and_ blushing, that Steve let's go of his fork and places his other hand on top of Bucky's, smiling. Bucky looks at him sideways, a small grin on his face, and whispers: "I wanna kiss you again. That okay?"

Steve smiles and nods, giving him the green light. When Bucky leans on the table to kiss him, Steve caresses his metal arm and whispers on his ear: " _You can kiss me anytime you want."_

It makes Bucky smile, because for him, it's all about consent and making choices. His lips meet Steve's, and just like the dream, it's a chocolate-cherry kiss, and it somehow drives Bucky mad, because it tastes so fucking good and he wants more, so he holds Steve tight and places his hand on his neck, pulling him close, not understanding the sudden need of his body of so much contact but he doesn't even try to fight it. He kisses Steve with more urgency now, they both needing to taste more of each other until they go out of breath.

"Oh." Steve lets out when their lips part. 

"Steve."

"Yeah, Bucky?"

"I… love you." Is all he says, and he doesn't regret, because Steve smiles so bright it lights up the entire room.

"I love you too, Bucky. I love you so damn much," he says, their foreheads pressed together.


End file.
